


RAWR XD

by inb4invert



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017)
Genre: 2006, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Retail, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Credence Barebone Heals, Emo, M/M, POV First Person, Past Abuse, Protective Original Percival Graves, Punk, Shopping Malls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29460528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inb4invert/pseuds/inb4invert
Summary: Back to a simpler time. 2006, to be exact.Credence Barebone has discovered friends, tattoos, rock music, and working retail at the Hot Topic. Oh, and Percival Graves. He'sdefinitelydiscovered Percival Graves.Or, The One Where Credence is a Bit of a "Scene Kid."Check out my moodboard and what inspired this whole thing!
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	RAWR XD

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a fun, fluffy, comedic bit of nostalgia for the millennial readers out there. It's written in the first person POV narrative style of my Percival Scissorhands fic, so if you enjoyed that one, this should do it for you. 
> 
> TW for a homophobic slur and a brief scene where Credence gets struck by a shoplifter. Allusions to former abuse and possibly self harm are also made.

"That kid is definitely stealing."

Okay, so just to start off, I'd been working at the Hot Topic in the mall for a little over a year at this point. Not like it's some great job or anything, but they let you look however you want and most jobs have a big problem with that.

One of my coworkers is also my roommate (as well as my bandmate) and with our shifts combined, it pays the bills. At least, _most_ months it does.

Anyway, my point is, we'd both been there for a while and it's not as if this situation was new. The stealing thing, I mean.

Another thing that wasn't new is the way Tina always reacts to it, as if the very idea that people might take something that isn't theirs has only just occurred to her in that moment, and she's having trouble processing the information.

It's honestly pretty funny. Tina's arms were crossed over her chest at the cash register, all puffed up and indignant, and with the way her eyes narrowed and honed in on the "kid" in question, I couldn't help but snort out a laugh. Of course, I tried immediately to disguise it under my hand but then she turned that gaze onto _me_ instead.

"You think it's _funny?_ " She hissed at me beneath her breath, which only made me start to laugh in earnest now.

Even as it was happening, I couldn't help but feel the strangeness of it still; things between me and my friends are an entire world away from how they were at the church. With _Ma._ If Ma had turned such a look on me, or whispered something in a warning tone, laughing would be the last thing on my mind. I guess that's something that _I'm_ still trying to process, but that's what this is all about, right? Telling my little story.

"It's not funny that he's shoplifting, no," I agreed, and then I knew I was _done_ because I couldn't stop a huge grin from taking over my face. I was seconds away from losing the fight. "But I _did_ watch a documentary the other night about hunting dogs, those Pointer ones? And the way you're looking at that kid right now…. it's just…"

That was it. I ducked down behind the checkout counter, knocking a box of little cellphone charms down with me as I went, and if anyone were to glance in as they passed down the corridor outside, all they would've probably seen was a mess of hot pink hair faintly trembling next to the cash register as the laughing fit fully took me. The thing is, now that I'm really free to laugh, like _actually_ let go, once I get started it's so hard to rein it back in.

Anyway, I looked up after I'd nearly gotten myself under control and I felt relieved to see Tina smirking down at me, torn between stopping the shoplifter and scolding me for my outburst.

"A _hunting_ dog? Seriously?" She groaned.

"Yeah, but like, a really _good_ one."

Still crouched behind the counter, I did my best to dodge a playful kick, but Tina was giggling by then, too. I always seem to be able to get to her like that, and we can add that to the fifty million ways that my life is almost unrecognisable to me these days. You know, in comparison, like I said before.

And by the way, I promise there's a point to this whole story and I'm doing my best to get to it.

"Hey, do you want to come with me when I get tattooed this Saturday?" I asked, still winding down. "It should be a quick-ish one this time."

"Another one? Is the last one even healed yet?" She shook her head in disbelief in that way she always does, but I was pretty sure she was going to say _yes._ "I think you might have an addiction."

I shrugged. I mean, it's not like she didn't have a point. "Well, yeah, but there's this spot on my wrist that I still really want to do…"

And then I trailed off just as Tina's smile faltered a bit and her eyes drifted down to my right wrist. At the time, I was wearing a striped wristband that covered at least three inches of skin, and there was one of those awkward sudden moments where we both silently thought about _why._ Trust me to go ahead and drop a miniature bomb like that while we're in the middle of laughing, but that's just the thing. I don't really know how to avoid it when it's always just _there._ Hence the tattoos.

"Credence…." she said with the little twist to her eyebrows that I know all too well now. "Yeah, I can come with you. But then you have to help me with our MySpace because you know I suck at making it look good. First we make _you_ pretty, then we make the page pretty."

"Deal," I said, satisfied, and more than happy that she didn't go and make a whole _thing_ out of my scars. She's always really good like that, though.

And then her posture went all stiff all over again. Down at her side, she moved her hand in an urgent motion for me to get back up.

"Credence, that guy is definitely taking one of the t-shirts," she told me in a low voice.

I popped back up from my crouch and frowned over the shelves and through the chaos of miscellaneous toys and random junk to try and confirm what she was seeing.

Here's where I'm slowly coming around to the point of the story, okay? We'll get there.

So, unfortunately, she was right. A scruffy looking boy, with bitten nails and about four inches of mousy brown roots beneath his black dye job was in the midst of shoving the t-shirt down into the checkered backpack at his feet.

"Ugh, it's one of the MCR shirts and that's like, one of the last _two_ that we even have," I complained in a low voice. "Stock doesn't come in until _Wednesday._ There's no way security is going to get here in time if you call."

"Yeah, but _we're_ not gonna- "

But that's just it- I _was_ gonna, because I'm a well meaning idiot.

"I'm gonna see if I can just talk to him," I told her, and I was already all the way around the counter when I heard her spluttering behind me, probably trying to find the exact right variation of 'No you don't, you _moron_ ' that she could come up with in a pinch.

I rounded the corner and I tried to smile and seem chill about the whole thing, but the boy looked completely _freaked._ Like, deer in the headlights. Understandable.

"Hey, have you heard the one about _'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's goods?'"_ I asked as I got a bit closer. "How about _'Thou shalt not steal?'"_

The kid panicked, I get it.

"Yeah, how about 'go fuck yourself,' _faggot,"_ he spat and started making a move to edge his way around me.

"You know, you're not really in a position to be calling anyone else that, with the chipped fuchsia nail poli--"

He punched me and ran.

Like, when I say he punched me, I mean he _really_ decked me one. The kid had a good swing on him, too, even with the fuchsia nail polish and everything.

It's not like I haven't been hit before, obviously I have. But there was something about it, that familiar pain again after such a long break away from it that made it hurt so much more than I remembered.

I could hear Tina yelling, a futile attempt to get him to stop, as if someone's going to actually halt in their tracks like some cartoon character in the middle of all that mess. But she was trying.

She didn't waste too much time on it though, because in just a few seconds she was fawning over me, tilting my face up to what little light there ever is inside the shop, trying to see how bad the damage was. Me, I was just doing my best not to cry, because like I said, it had been a while and the whole thing was kind of taking me down memory lane.

"Awww Credence, _jeez…."_

For a while, that was the only kind of thing she managed to say. Which I actually really appreciate, because a big part of me was just bracing for a scolding like 'I shouldn't have tried, I should have known better,' that kind of thing.

"I'm _okay,_ Tina," I tried to reassure her, but at that point she looked more like she was about to cry than I probably did.

I think I need to take a minute to talk about Tina here. So, her parents died when she and Queenie were still really young, and they had to go into the foster system and all that stuff for a while. And the good thing is, they got to stay together, which is something that doesn't always get to happen. I was really worried about that kind of thing for my sisters when the time came, too, but I can get to that later.

Essentially, the whole thing left Tina with this "mother hen" kind of approach to life. She's determined to become a social worker, and if I'm being honest, she's pretty much a major reason why I was able to fully get out of my own situation and onto my feet.

She knows all about my past, and she's seen my scars and everything (I mean, we live together), but she'd never exactly seen me take a punch to the actual face. And I was starting to get a little concerned about her at this point, because she looked like she might be about to hyperventilate.

"Tina, why don't we call security and tell them what happened?"

I said it almost entirely to give her something solid to focus on, like a way to do some sort of concrete problem solving action. And it seemed to work, because she calmed right down and nodded her head a few times before going to the phone behind the cash register, sending me worried glances the whole time.

And here's where we get to the really interesting part. Finally.

"They're sending the head of mall security," she said, once she'd put down the phone.

I watched her take a long shaky breath and run her hands through her hair, sort of looking around the store but not really seeing anything, if you know what I mean. I felt really nervous suddenly about the entire situation, like…. I didn't want everyone making such a fuss over me. I don't know why, I know I don't deserve to get hit or something, but. I don't know. Maybe I was just scared I'd get in trouble for handling it wrong and getting myself hurt. I guess I'm just used to things being my fault, even when they're not.

But man, am I ever glad they made a fuss just this one time. And here's why:

I'd never even seen the guy in charge of mall security, I mean, not to my knowledge at least. And I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't…. that? I just wasn't expecting _him._ I wasn't expecting _any_ of it.

A few minutes after the call, this guy comes in and, first off-- he looked so weird and out of place in a Hot Topic. I can't stress that enough.

He wasn't in a uniform or anything like the ones who patrol the mall. He was wearing, like, a suit, but without the blazer, as if he'd just rushed down in the middle of lunch or something. But he definitely had on a tie, and a little laminated name badge clipped to the front pocket. He looked like someone's father, lost in the store. Like someone's gruff, hot, bearded dad.

Okay... so it's not exactly a secret amongst my friends that I'm into guys. That was sort of the whole deal behind getting out of the church in the first place. Or what started it, at least. But until this all happened, I'm not totally sure my friends fully suspected the _kind_ of guys that really do it for me. They certainly knew after all _this_ went down, though. I'm still hearing about it.

There's something about the _way_ he came in though, the way he turned those warm, concerned eyes right on me immediately. For a second, I was so worried that I might actually burst into tears it was just about all I could think of. Just concentrating on keeping it together in front of him.

He was totally calm about everything, even the way he moved. It was like, pure opposite to the kind of drama and fussing I was scared of. It definitely wasn't like how Tina usually is about things, either. To be honest, it was hard to feel scared about _anything_ with him in the room, except maybe the thing about not wanting to cry in front of him and possibly whimper _"Daddy"_ out loud.

The first thing out of my mouth when he crouched down next to where I was sitting was "I'm sorry," because of-fucking-course it was.

Percy has these _eyebrows_ (that's his name, by the way, _Percival Graves,_ like an honest-to-god White Knight), and when I started to apologise for... I don't know? getting hit? those brows went up and twisted towards each other in this concerned puppy kind of way and I knew right there I was in a whole different type of trouble.

I actually remember glancing over at Tina like I needed to see if she was picking up on what was going on with me. I know for sure if Queenie had been there, she would have been onto me in less than a second, but I think Tina was too distracted by the whole _situation._ I was just glad that meant I probably wasn't making like, _visible_ eyes at him, one of which I could feel was definitely bruising up pretty badly.

All right. So. This is where I died.

"You've got nothing to apologise for," he said, in the softest, kindest, freaking _Irish_ accent. I'd thought he looked out of place in the shop, but oh man, I had _no_ idea until he spoke. It sounds stupid now, but I think I almost blurted out something like "How did you get here?!" Like planes don't exist or something. So dumb.

Next thing I knew, he was giving me this long look, and it was so hard to meet his gaze. He has this way of making me feel like I'm being _pinned_ by his eyes alone, and it just… he had me feeling like I wanted to fix my hair, or even better, like how good would it be if I _didn't_ have a black eye swelling up? That kind of thing. Just so suddenly aware of myself and how I look and how he might feel about it. Hoping he feels, well… _good_ about it.

I realised after a second that he was kind of asking me for permission by giving me that look. Like, asking it with his eyes. Because the next thing he said was "All right then, my boy, let's see how it is." (I swear on the Holy Lord Himself, he said it just like that, too).

And then the gentlest, most beautiful and careful hands were taking my face and tilting my head to the light, and it did _not_ feel like that when Tina did it. I know for sure I was holding my breath, but I can't really feel too stupid about it because I don't think I'd ever even been that close to a man as handsome as him before. Definitely I hadn't been touched by one, that's for sure.

He sucked in a bit of air through his teeth at whatever was happening on my face, then shook his head. I didn't even care that I was hurt, I just watched his face as he examined mine: his soulful brown eyes and these eyelashes that are honestly just ridiculously pretty for a grown man. He had two little moles on one cheek, beauty marks, more like, and his beard was all threaded through with silver just like his dark hair. He smelled so good, too, like something expensive.

Really, I was just in awe of him.

"You're on your way to being the proud owner of a proper shiner," he pronounced. And then he winked at me.

"I'm pretty sure that's mostly just eyeliner," I tried to tell him, but I squinted and shrugged as I said it and then instantly winced at the way it stung.

"There's no shame in it," he chuckled, and one of those beautiful hands, large and warm and perfect, settled over the back of my neck and gave a fatherly squeeze. "Not the black eye, or the eyeliner, either. In fact, your good eye still looks perfectly lovely."

I thought at first he was teasing me, I mean, how could this manly head of security be telling me a) that he likes my makeup, and b) that it's okay I'm wearing it in the first place. But his smile was so sincere and sweet and it felt like it was just for me. Like some private thing between us.

"Um, well, they like us to look cool in here, or… whatever, I mean--"

"So what happens now?" Tina interrupted, and I could see that the irritation was starting to set in now. Part of me was relieved by it, but the other part of me was like… 'Tina, could you not?'

"What happens now, is some ice." That was Percival Graves, resident White Knight.

He looked me over again, with a little smile that felt almost conspiratorial, like I was in some kind of 'getting punched' club I'd never gotten my official card for in the mail. It made me feel lightheaded, that smile. Whether there really was a club or not, I knew I wanted to be in _something_ with him.

"Used to be quite the boxer, I did," he told me. "You keep some ice on that tonight and it'll be fine."

"You… you used to box? Like in a gym?"

Tina made the grumpy _sound_ she makes, but this time I almost straight out told her to take a seat. If I'd had any voice left to even do it, that is.

"What about the shoplifter?" She asked. "And what are we supposed to do about it next time that doesn't involve someone getting punched?"

Mr. Graves (I wouldn't have dared call him anything else at the time) frowned at her question and then looked at me again. He held my eyes in that patient, confidential way that made it hard to even concentrate on what he was actually saying, and he told me, "We have apprehended the thief before he made it off the premises, actually. Would you like to press charges over the matter of the assault? You'd be well within your rights to, and I can be there with you to speak to the police when they arrive, if you like."

"I…"

I looked to Tina and she raised her eyebrows at me as if to say "Well…?"

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to have a reason to spend more time around Mr. Graves, maybe even swoon and have him catch me if I could pull it off convincingly enough. But I didn't want to have to get that kid into more trouble than he already was, as much as I knew Tina was going to flip right out about it.

"That boy's probably in enough trouble already," I said, hearing Tina sigh in exasperation exactly how I'd expected. "I think he was just really scared. I… I don't want to press charges this time." I smiled at Mr. Graves and tried to make it seem sort of blasé. "Here at Hot Topic, the first punch is free" I added.

When he grinned, I felt every tense muscle in my body relax. I felt kind of proud of myself, or excited or something, to be able to make him smile like that. But more than that, it just made me feel like everything was _okay._

He clapped his hand on my shoulder one last time and said "That's a very kind thing," like I'd made the right decision somehow. I never feel like I've made the right decision.

He stood back up and told us both that he would be making arrangements to have anti-theft sensors installed specifically at the entrance to our store (which for some reason, we didn't already have). Tina seemed at least a little more relieved at that, but the part that had _me_ relieved was when he said he'd be back again soon to check in on how I was making out. His words.

I was dearly hoping there really would be some "making out" when he returned. I was going to be thinking of nothing else until I saw him again, I knew that much.

I saw him off with the most pathetic little school girl wave, and then Tina turned to me when he was out of earshot.

"Well, _that_ was something, at least," she said.

"Yeah…. it really was."

And, well…. that's how this whole thing started. Thanks, shoplifter kid, wherever you are (I hope it's not jail).


End file.
